Saturday, August 25, 2012

When I read or
hear the word ‘folly’ spoken, I immediately think of something silly or
ridiculous, a mistake. However, on a recent trip about the United States,
I was reminded of the sort of whimsical folly that pays tribute to the past.

‘Follies’, from
the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries were buildings that were constructed for
decoration only, sort of like massive garden ornaments that went several steps
beyond the average wheelbarrow-pushing gnomes that bedeck many a garden today.
The follies built by the rich and powerful in sixteenth century England and France were more along the lines of
classical temples or artificial castle ruins. They were put up as decoration
for lands and served no real purpose except to create a bit of atmosphere.

When I lived in
St. Andrews, Fife, I remember, when driving
through a certain village on a regular basis, I would often see some menacing
gothic ruins on the hill above the village. For a long while my imagination ran
wild with theories as to what it might have been, what might have happened
there. Finally, I could no longer stand not knowing and asked one of the locals
what it was. I figured that it had to be from at least the thirteenth century.

“No,” I was told.
“That there was built in the late nineteenth century by the earl who owned the
lands at the time. It's a fake ruin.”

I was completely
gob smacked by this revelation. It looked so real from down the hill, so
authentic, so damned cool!

Castle Howard, EnglandTholos folly and mausoleum

After that, I
started to see follies everywhere I went, or to question the origins of genuine
ruins. I eventually got over that and began to sieve folly from the real deal. From
the late nineteenth century more and more follies began to serve an actual
purpose. Many were still wildly decorative but they also had practical
functions such as housing or business space.

Follies come in
many shapes and sizes, as fantasy or novelty buildings. But more importantly,
to my mind, they are things that pay special tribute to the past in some way,
to a certain period of history. And why not? We do so in literature and fine
art. Why not architecture? Sculpture on a massive scale.

At the outset, I
mentioned that I was reminded of follies on a recent trip about the States. Two
places the road led us were Memphis and Nashville. When I think
of these two cities I first think of the Civil Rights movement and of rock,
blues and country music. I never imagined I would find two of the greatest
follies to honour the ancient world!

The Memphis Pyramid, Tennessee

Memphis, where it sits cool along the east bank of
the Mississippi,
is a city well worth a visit. Along the river, Memphis’
own Nile, towering over everything else, is a
monumental, stainless steel replica of the Great Pyramid of Giza. It is, I
believe, two thirds the size of the original but this does not take away from
its magnitude. The thing is enormous and a fantastic way to honour the ancient
Egyptian capital, Memphis’
namesake.

However, it was in
Nashville,
three hours to the east that we really came face to face with the ancient
world. In Nashville’s CentennialPark sits an exact replica of the
Parthenon as it would have appeared in ancient Athens. Nashville
was certainly making a claim on its being the ‘Athens of the South’! Those of you who have
seen Percy Jackson – The Lightning Thief will
remember the structure’s brief appearance in that movie.

Nashville's Parthenon, Centennial Park

I have been
several times up the Acropolis in Athens
to see the ruins of the Parthenon, imagining what it might have been like
whole, before being used as a powder keg by the Ottomans. It will always be a
special place, a place for the mind to revel in recreation. However, being able
to walk inside Nashville’s
Parthenon replica, to gaze upon the recreated monumental statue of the goddess
Athena, was a very special thing. It gave me a sense of scale, of awe that I,
as a writer, will able to make use of. It may not have been the real thing, but
it certainly complemented my experience in Athens.

Nashville Parthenon, south pediment

When I exited the
Nashville Parthenon, the sun was dipping in the west, casting orange light
which angled between the rows of massive columns. The full-scale statues of the
pediments seemed to shift with the shadows they cast. It was very peaceful,
rendered even more so by a duo playing the cello and mandolin on the temple
steps below the metopes and the images of Athena’s birth from the head of Zeus.
It was all a bit dreamy, absolutely wonderful.

Statue of Athena, Nashville Parthenon

Many folks tend to
dismiss follies but I say we should cherish them, for not only do they pay
tribute to our past, to the great achievements of our ancestors, but they also
enrich the world we live in, whether it is a pair of seemingly out-of-place
columns flanking the doors of a public library or a massive pyramid overlooking
the Mississippi. They are far and away more beautiful than an impersonal concrete
edifice and make our day-to-day lives that much more interesting.

What is your
favourite historical folly?

If you have one somewhere in the world, let us
know what and where it is.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

As someone who loves history and
archaeology, and believes vehemently in their importance, I often speak of and
write about how they affect and inspire a large part of my writing. As an
author of historical fiction/fantasy, I have always used the man-made past as a
portal to the world or age about which I am writing. I love the past, seeing
the remains left by our ancestors. When we travel, we take photos of ourselves
beside ruined walls and intact citadels. We treat them like old friends –
there’s me with my arm about that bloody great sarsen stone, two peas in a pod.
Well, you get the point.

But there is another presence, another
doorway to the past that is sometimes even more accessible, easier to immerse
oneself in, easier to understand – the landscape.

Gog and Magog
Ancient Oaks - Glastonbury UK

I have found that the landscape itself,
without anything man-made, can inspire some of the best writing. Not that I
don’t love castles, amphitheatres, ruined walls and mosaics. I am deeply
inspired by all of those. But, when it is just me and the landscape, it feels
like a completely blank page where I can step back to any age and feel the same
wind, smell the same flowers and herbs, touch the same sea, and hear the same
birds that my characters and their historical counterparts would have felt long
ago. What better way to immerse a reader than by appealing to their senses? As
a reader, I know I love that.

Mediterranean Sea

Here are some examples. When I am in Greece, the sea
is always there for me. You can find any one little, deserted bay with calm
turquoise water where you can close your eyes and imagine your characters in
that very spot. The sounds and the smells would be exactly the same, were it
one hundred years ago or two thousand.

In Tuscany,
which I wrote about in another post, the way the sunlight plays on every shade
of green and gold brings an ancient world of colour and light to life. In Glastonbury, two ancient
gnarled oaks speak through time, their earthy smells and the feel of their
rough bark something that could have been experienced a thousand years before.

Storm rolling in

Another time, as I stood on a mountain in
the Languedoc of southern France, I watched a mass of storm clouds come
rushing off the Pyrenees to crash on the
valley floor below and then slam into the mountain on which I was standing. A
scary experience to be sure, lighting and all, but the sights, the sounds and
the smells of the summer storm were magnificent.

Olive Branch

These things may appear too simple to most,
obvious, but some times those are the things that work best, that are most
easily related to. Whether it is the sound of a bird, the smell of wild herbs
or the salt sea, or the feel of the sun upon one’s skin, all of this adds a
richness that is common to our present day lives and those of our ancestors.